“It’s only ten forty-five.”
“Brunch, then?” Something over her shoulder caught his attention. “Or come shopping with me now. We’ll go to lunch later.”
Conflicting emotions battled inside her. She wanted to agree. She’d always enjoyed Blake’s company, and it wasn’t his fault her former teenage crush was threatening to blossom into something stronger. But she’d been burned so badly by Harry she feared letting any man close to her again.
Her intellectual side took issue with her emotions. She’d wasted almost eleven years of her life with a man who hadn’t a clue about the meaning of love. If she let her fear of being hurt again hold her prisoner, she’d be wasting the rest of her life, as well, because of Harry. Marissa knew she had to learn to trust her feelings, to rely on her instincts again. And what better way to learn than with an old friend? So what if Blake didn’t want marriage and a family? At this stage, neither did she. She had to practice guarding her heart, making the right choices. She couldn’t hide from life forever.
Her intellectual side won the debate. She’d do as Blake asked.
“I thought all men hated shopping.” She eyed him with suspicion. “Unless you’re talking about Home Depot.”
Blake pointed past her to a row of shops on Main Street. “Bay Baby Boutique. I want to pick up a present for Annie.”
Marissa suppressed a sigh. How was she supposed to guard her heart against a man so besotted by a baby? “Annie’s too little to appreciate a present.”
“But she needs so many things,” Blake insisted. “All she had were the clothes she was wearing. She didn’t even have a toy.”
His expression turned wistful, and Marissa guessed he was remembering the times he’d not had the clothes or toys other children had enjoyed.
“Okay,” she agreed, “let’s shop. I’d like to take Annie something myself.”
Blake reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “You go ahead. I’ll join you in a minute.”
Marissa strode across the street, dodging slow-moving traffic. When she reached the boutique’s entrance, she turned. Standing by the bench where she’d left him, Blake had his cell phone hunched between his ear and his shoulder while he jotted furiously in a small notebook. As she watched, he finished his call and loped across the street to join her, still clutching his notepad.
A tiny bell tinkled when they entered the store, and a young woman behind the cash register looked up. “Anything I can help you with?”
Marissa glanced at Blake.
“I’ll find toys,” he said, “if you’ll pick out a couple outfits.”
“Jammies and play clothes?”
“Sounds good. Nothing fancy.” He frowned suddenly. “Unless you think she’ll have to go to court.”
Marissa shook her head. “Not likely.”
She moved toward the right to the clothing displays, and Blake headed toward the toy section on the left. The saleswoman gravitated toward Blake. Not that Marissa blamed her. He’d undone the top button of his dress shirt and loosened his tie. The effect was a casual elegance very easy on the eyes.
“How old is your baby?” Marissa heard the woman ask.
“Three months. What’s a good toy for a baby that age?”
“How about something with lots of color, like a mobile that hangs above the crib? We have several with music boxes.”
Enchanted by the adorable outfits in a rainbow of shades and a variety of styles, Marissa tuned out the conversation at the other side of the shop. Within minutes she had picked out a jumpsuit in pale green embroidered with a baby duck, and pink overalls with a white T-shirt trimmed in matching pink.
She placed her selections on the counter beside the cash register, and Blake and the saleswoman joined her. Blake set down two large boxes that appeared to hold identical mobiles, two attractive rattles that looked as if they’d double as teething toys, and two tiny stuffed animals, one a lamb, the other a puppy.
He eyed her purchases. “Those will fit Annie?”
“They should,” Marissa said, “for a while, at least. Babies grow awfully fast.”
Blake pointed to the clothes and asked the saleswoman, “Do you have both those outfits to fit a six-month-old?”
“I’ll check,” the clerk said.
His generosity impressed Marissa. Not only would Annie have clothes for now but also for later when she outgrew these.
Within minutes the clerk returned with the larger sizes and rang up their purchases. When Blake handed her his credit card, her eyes widened. “I’ve seen that name just recently.” Her gaze traveled to the store’s front window. “You’re the guy who found the baby on his doorstep!”
“That’s right.”
The woman looked at Marissa with narrowed eyes, then returned her gaze to Blake. “And you found the baby’s mother?”
“Not yet,” Blake said, “but Ms. Mason, my attorney—” he nodded toward Marissa “—and I are working on it.”
“You and most of the town,” the clerk said. “Everyone’s talking about that poor little kid. Are these things for her?”
“Some of them,” Blake replied, and Marissa wondered what he meant.
Her curiosity was piqued even more when they left the store and Blake queried, “Do we have time to stop by the toy store before lunch and still make it to Debbie’s by one?”
“But you already have toys,” Marissa said. “Two of each, in fact.”
“These are for babies. I need kid toys now.”
Marissa stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at him. “Are you planning to outfit Annie with toys and clothes for now and the future?”
Blake’s gray eyes twinkled, and his smile was irresistible. “I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s not a bad idea.”
He looked so delicious, so incredibly sexy yet oozing boyish charm, that she was glad her hands were filled with packages that prevented her from reaching for him. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”
“The foster parents we’re going to see have five children in their care. Annie, a six-month-old girl, two five-year-old boys and a six-year-old girl who’ll be at school when we arrive.”
A light went on in Marissa’s head. “And you’re taking toys to all of them.”
“Seems only fair. How would you have felt when you were a kid if Suze and Jake and Wally had gotten toys and you hadn’t?”
His thoughtfulness threatened to bring tears to her eyes. She couldn’t help wondering how many times as a foster child Blake had witnessed others receiving gifts of toys and clothes when he received none. Those experiences could have turned him bitter. Instead, they’d engendered an incredible generosity and kindness that were, unfortunately, rare.
She set down her packages and fumbled in her purse for her sunglasses to hide the tell-tale moisture brimming in her eyes. After ramming on her glasses, she retrieved her bundles. “We’d better hurry so we don’t keep Debbie waiting.”
BLAKE SAT at the drawing table in his third bedroom that he’d commandeered as his office. To make up for the time he’d lost in court and visiting Annie, he should be working on sketches for the Hearth-stone Project, but he couldn’t concentrate.
Not when his mind kept filling with images of Marissa. He’d admired her competent professionalism before the judge, giggled like a kid with her while they selected toys, and observed her obvious fascination with Annie and tender attention to the other children in the foster home. She had as many facets as a well-cut diamond.
Judging from the inner glow that had radiated from her while she held Annie, Marissa was obviously a woman meant to be a mother. Even the two small boys hugging her knees hadn’t fazed her. Instead, she’d seemed to revel in their presence.
Laying his pencil aside, he stared out the window at the starlit night. Had Marissa been unable to conceive children of her own? Or had her marital problems prevented her from starting a family? Whatever the reason, Blake decided that not having children to cuddle and love, as
she had this afternoon, was a damned shame.
“Want some coffee?”
As if conjured up by his thoughts, Marissa stood on the threshold, two steaming mugs in her hands.
“Sure. I can use the caffeine to stay awake. I have a long night ahead of me.”
“You’re out of luck. It’s decaf.”
“I’ll take it anyway, thanks.”
She entered the room, handed him the cup and glanced over his shoulder at the almost blank paper that topped his drawing table.
“Looks like you’re having the architect’s equivalent of writer’s block.”
“Too many things on my mind,” he admitted.
“Want to talk about them?”
He longed to know the answer to why she hadn’t had kids of her own, but didn’t dare ask. The question was too personal, her wounds from her recent divorce too raw. But he didn’t want to send her away, either. He liked having Marissa with him late at night, dressed in a short robe with a sash knotted at her trim waist. The silky fabric covered her almost completely, yet its seductive cling emphasized her delectable curves.
He stifled a grin. If Judge Standiford had any idea what Blake was thinking at that moment, the old coot would probably throw him in jail.
Blake ordered Bo out of the oversize recliner next to the drawing table and nodded to Marissa. “You’re welcome to join me.”
Bo lay down at Blake’s feet beneath the table, and Marissa curled into the chair with the grace and nimbleness of a cat, tucked her feet beneath her, and sipped her coffee. “You’re worried about Annie?”
“I’d be lying if I said no.”
“The foster mother seemed nice enough, and she genuinely appreciated the clothes and toys.”
“But with another infant, two toddlers, and a first-grader to care for, how much attention can she give our Annie?”
“Debbie says all the foster homes in the area are filled to capacity.”
“All the more reason to gain custody of Annie as soon as possible.” Blake frowned. “Although, after the hearing this morning, I don’t hold much hope.”
Marissa pursed her lips and knitted her brows as if deep in thought. “Maybe the crowded foster homes will work to our advantage.”
“You knew about Judge Standiford’s reputation, didn’t you?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“But you didn’t warn me.”
“What good would it have done? Debbie and I both tried to have the hearing switched to another judge. Sometimes the system works against us.”
Moonlight streamed in the window, the only other light besides the tiny halogen above the drawing table. Marissa’s hair gleamed silver in its glow, and Blake was struck again by the miracle of scrappy little Rissa turning into a goddess. Filled with the sudden urge to kiss her moist, rosy mouth again, he resisted temptation. He would do nothing to spoil the easy camaraderie that had developed between them, even stronger than that of their youth.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked.
She looked puzzled. “Drinking coffee?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Helping me.”
She thought for a moment before answering. “Several reasons.”
“Name one.”
“It takes my mind off things I’d rather not think about.”
“Like Harry?”
She nodded. “And Suze and Michael.”
“And the other reasons?”
“For old-time’s sake.”
He grinned. “We were good buddies, weren’t we?”
“The best. I’m sorry we ever lost touch.”
“Me, too.”
Guilt stabbed Blake. Marissa had written several times after that Christmas vacation of their freshman year in college, but he’d been too wrapped up in his studies and new friendships to respond. When he finally found the opportunity, he was too embarrassed to write after so much time had passed. Eventually Marissa’s letters had stopped coming.
She gazed at him over the rim of her mug that she clasped in both hands, her eyes dreamy and silvery green in the moonlight. “I haven’t told you my most compelling reason for helping.”
“I’m listening.”
“Your motives are pure. I don’t run across many people like you in my practice. Usually my client’s out to cover his own behind and to hell with everyone else. You have nothing to gain, and lots of time and money to lose, by helping Annie. I’d need a heart of stone not to want to be involved.”
“You always were a soft touch,” Blake said. “I’m surprised you didn’t end up in the public defender’s office or opening one of those free law clinics.”
“I thought about it, but—” She shrugged and let her sentence trail off into silence.
Blake picked up his pencil and colored a few random strokes. If Marissa didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t push her.
“At first,” she finally said, “I was trying to earn enough money to buy a house and start a family. But Harry always had some excuse. In spite of all his protestations to the contrary, he never really wanted children.”
Blake’s grip tightened on the pencil until it threatened to snap. He wished it was Harry’s neck.
“Then,” Marissa continued, “after my divorce, I needed to be close to my family. That’s why I agreed to join Dad’s practice.”
“You’re still young,” Blake said, “young enough to have that family. You should marry again.”
“No way, José. Been there, done that. Learned my lesson.”
“Not all men are like Harry.”
Her smile was a mixture of irony and sadness. “I didn’t know Harry was like Harry until after I’d married him.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few moments before Marissa spoke again. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Why haven’t you married, had kids?”
“Some people aren’t cut out for married life.”
Even to Marissa, he couldn’t admit how inadequate he felt as a potential parent. He’d never had the role models necessary to learn to be a good husband and father. And he’d witnessed firsthand too many times the damage poor relationships and bad parenting could wreak, particularly on a child. As a result, he’d resigned himself years ago to a single life.
“But you’re so good with kids,” Marissa argued. “I watched you today. You’re a natural.”
“I enjoy kids for short stretches, but in the long run—” He knew nothing about the long run. He’d never been around children for more than a few hours at a time. “I’m better off on my own.”
Bo woofed softly under the table.
“And with Bo, of course,” Blake added, and leaned down to scratch behind Bo’s ears.
“So you’d never consider adopting Annie yourself, permanently?”
Blake was saved from responding by the ringing of the telephone on the table beside Marissa’s chair.
“It’s after midnight,” he said. “Who’s calling this late?”
Marissa glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Blackie’s cell phone.”
She grabbed the receiver and said hello. For several long minutes, she said nothing else, but Blake noticed her grip on the phone had turned her knuckles white.
“Thanks, Blackie,” she finally said. “We’ll be in touch.”
She hung up and looked at Blake with a stunned expression.
“Did he find Annie’s mother?” Blake asked.
Marissa shook her head. “He found the hospital where Annie was born, but her mother has moved out of the house listed on the hospital records. She left no forwarding address. He’s still searching the town, but so far, no luck.”
She set her coffee mug on the side table with trembling hands.
“Something wrong?” Blake asked.
“There’s a complication.”
“He’s found Annie’s other relatives?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Blake bit back an impatient reply. Something Black
ie had said had caused all the blood to drain from Marissa’s face.
Blake left the drawing table and slid into the recliner next to Marissa. He scooted her onto his lap and placed his arms around her. As before, she felt as if she’d been made for his arms. “Okay, if it’s bad news, we need to deal with it.”
“Annie isn’t her mother’s only child.”
“She has older siblings?”
“One sibling, older by three minutes. Annie has a twin brother.”
Chapter Eight
“Annie’s a twin?” Blake’s face reflected the shock Marissa felt.
“Blackie found both birth certificates in the Clermont hospital.”
“What’s happened to the little boy?”
Marissa shuddered. “Let’s hope he’s still with his mother. Maybe she abandoned Annie because she couldn’t handle two infants.”
“Or afford them.”
Another ringing interrupted them, this time from the fax machine on Blake’s desk.
“Blackie’s faxing copies of the birth certificates,” Marissa explained.
She’d been so stunned by Blackie’s information, she hadn’t noticed until now how intimately Blake held her on his lap. Their coming together had seemed so natural, so comforting. And, she had to admit, so right. She found herself enjoying the closeness. If the fax hadn’t rung, she might have responded to Blake’s embrace by twining her arms around his neck, kissing his lips, snuggling deeper into his embrace. Intoxicated by the scent of him, a melange of fresh air, sunshine and a sandalwood-scented aftershave, she closed her eyes.
Blake saved her from doing something she might have regretted by standing with her in his arms, then settling her back in the chair. He crossed the room and grabbed the pages as the fax spit them out.
Marissa used the opportunity to compose herself. She should have remained in her room and left Blake alone. She’d known living with him would work only as long as she kept her distance. The old attraction was too strong to justify placing herself in such a vulnerable position. But she was grateful for a place to live, happy to help with his efforts to get custody of Annie, and beyond that, she and Blake were just friends.
Yeah, right. Then why does your pulse rachet up several notches every time you’re near him?
Verdict: Daddy Page 9